


We Survived

by lady_luck12



Category: EXO (Band), Miss A
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Established Relationship, F/M, Kris is a drummer, Rare Pairings, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-05-06
Packaged: 2020-02-27 00:11:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18727699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_luck12/pseuds/lady_luck12
Summary: It's the new year and Kris is back home in his small town after months of being on tour. Not much has changed and yet so much has in the time since he's been away.





	We Survived

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back in 2012/2013 and honestly only just came across it again today and figured I might as well post it. I think I posted it as a draft to AO3 a while back but I'm not even sure about that.

He walks up the stairs, shivering from the cold as his leather jacket clings to him. He curses as he eyes the two locks on the door wearily. He’d been the one that decided to get them. He didn’t like the idea of her being all alone for such a long period of time with just the flimsy bottom lock, and so he added a padlock. He fumbles with his keys, he’s got more than fifty keys hiding the silver metal of his key ring and at that very moment he can’t even think of ten locks that would need them. After the fifth try on the bottom lock, he finally gets the door open and takes a cautious step inside. 

“I’m home,” he calls out, no one answers back. In the living room the carpet is dirty, it’s beige but grungy, and the old sofa they had found during a random spur of thrift shopping is still there, with holes and messily knitted patches. He passes that and heads towards the tiny kitchen.  There sits their cheap wooden table with its three mismatch chairs. The stove is an off white now with grease stains covering it and their pale green refrigerator is still covered with tons of different color sticky notes and alphabet magnets and looks much more like the refrigerator of a middle-class house with two children.  When he moves in closer, he sees a purple note at the very top of the pile. It’s dated 12-22-12, and in bold black sloppy lettering it reads “WE SURVIVED.” He picks it up and stares at it, words looking like a marker went over it multiple times, and he can imagine the grin on her face after she had finished writing it _. We survived._ He puts it back, pressing with force to get it to stick back again.  

He leaves the kitchen now and heads towards the bedroom. It’s a disaster area, clothes and shoes litter the floor and the bed is unmade. He didn’t really expect it to be anything less.  They tended not to make up their bed since they laid in it at all hours and found the task meaningless. Besides the bedroom was their place, no one else saw, so no one else should have cared rather it was messy or not. He steps inside, picks up a strapless dress he finds on the floor, and balls it up between his palms. He shots it in the direction of the empty laundry basket and misses. He doesn’t show any disappoint at his rustic skills, instead, he continues his journey around the disarrayed clothes, before letting his back slam into the bed.

“Home sweet home,” he mutters to himself, looking over to his left, and wondering when she’d be back. He wonders if she will be back. December is over and it’s the start of January but maybe she left during Christmas. Maybe she decided not to spend the New Year alone. 

He awakens to the sound of the bedroom door being slammed open and turns towards the direction of the low, “Shhh,” he hears, watching behind hooded eyes as she stumbles inside, a finger pressed to her lips as if she’s trying to tell someone else to be quiet. He watches as she trips over her clothes, catching herself thanks to the wall, and crashes onto the bed. He closes his eyes and turns away from her.  It’s an hour before he turns back to face her, she’s asleep. Her eyes are covered in eye shadow and eyeliner, and probably another eye makeup he’s doesn’t know of. She still has her outside clothes on just like him, and her pink painted lips are a contrast to her pale snow-like skin. He reaches up and runs a hand through her long black hair, the biggest change in her appearance since he last saw her. 

-

It’s mid-afternoon and Kris is doing his best to tune out Baekhyun which is kind of hard to do when Baekhyun is constantly snapping his stupid fingers and calling for Kris’s attention every fifteen seconds. It’s bad enough Kris has to work at his father’s stupid shop that no one ever comes into. No one goes to unknown record stores in this day and age, preferring to get their music online or at the very most go to one of the barely standing chain stores if they were enthusiasts when it came to the authenticity a physical album brought.

“Kris,” Baekhyun singsongs his name again and Kris looks away from the counter where he was using his fingers to drum out a solo to the background music, to look into Baekhyun eyeliner covered eyes. 

“You know that shit is supposed to be only for when we’re performing right? How the hell do you manage to actually wear that crap on a daily basis?”  Baekhyun opens his mouth to answer when the sound of the shop’s bell breaks through the silence. When Kris looks up, he catches sight of a girl with cotton candy pink hair and a lollipop in her mouth looking everything like the poster girl for the pop-punk band currently playing. He watches her with wary eyes as she strolls around the store pulling out CD after CD, wondering if she’s going to try and steal from them. It’s wrong to think that, but being in a band meant that he knew try hard social misfits when he saw them, hell many people would consider him to be one of them, and that girl, the one in front of him, was definitely one of them. 

Baekhyun resumes his conversation while Kris continues watching her only for her to look into his direction. He watches as a smile makes its way to her lips as he refuses to break his gaze, face void of any real emotion. She eventually looks away to go back to picking out CD after CD and he turns towards Baekhyun whose eyes brighten when he realizes that he finally got Kris’ attention. 

She finally approaches when Baekhyun’s all talked out and places her selection onto the counter. “You’re in a band,” the pink haired girl asks, obviously having overheard Baekhyun’s talking. Kris doesn’t answer her, instead, he raises an eyebrow as he continues to ring up her mixture of rap and rock CDs. He’s pretty sure they stopped selling Run DMC back in the 90s. 

“Yeah,” Baekhyun answers instead, a devious smirk making its way to his lips. “I’m vocals and he’s drums.” 

“Drums,” she says, cherry red lips parting as she repeats Baekhyun, looking at Kris with curious eyes. 

“21.79,” he tells her, finally looking up at the girl. She hands him the money crumbled bills mixed with pennies and dimes and he hands her the bag of CDs. 

“I’m Jia,” she introduces. 

“Kris,” He says back, watching as she smiles before turning away and exiting through the door.

-

When Kris wakes up, she’s not in the bed. He heads towards the kitchen and sees her sitting in one of the chairs eating cereal out of a chipped bright green bowl. He pulls a pale blue bowl out of the cabinet and sits across from her pouring the Coco Puffs into the bowl and then milk two days past its sell-by date. 

“You were in California the last time we talked right,” she asks, around her cereal. “How was that?” 

Two months ago he had been in California amongst the crowd of wannabe Hollywood celebrities wearing flip-flops and sandals despite it being winter. A month later, he had taken a commercial flight to New York where he had to wear a scarf and spent most of his free time in cafés in the middle of Times Square. 

“It was nice,” Kris says with a shrug. “Not having to wear a coat during wintertime makes everything seem so much better.”  

“I don’t doubt that,” She says back, taking another bite of her soggy cereal as the television in the living speaks in static messes. “I always wanted to go and see the place with the hand prints on the road, you know. What’s that called again?” 

“The walk of Fame,” Kris guesses. 

“Yeah,” she nods. “That’s it, I always wanted to see the Walk of Fame.” She finishes her food first putting the bowl in the sink amongst other dishes and walks out of the kitchen. When Kris finishes his food, he does as she had done and leaves the kitchen. He takes a shower and gets dressed in a basic t-shirt and jeans and walks in the living room where Jia is sitting watching the small television. She’s leaning in too close for comfort, eyes focused on the television. 

“Jia I’m going out for a smoke.” 

“Can you go get some more milk,” she asks him, eyes never straying from the television. 

“Okay,” he agrees. The nearest convenience store is a ten-minute walk from their apartment so Kris heads there, with his heavy black coat, and gloves. He walks the streets of his town keeping to himself. When he gets to the store, he buys a quart of 2% milk and heads right back home. When he gets back to the apartment building, he stands outside of the building, leaning against the brown stones in the cold and finishes out a cigarette. 

When he heads upstairs he smells like smoke and she’s still in the living room leaning in way too close to watch their crappy television. That’s the last time they’re together in the apartment with both of them awake to realize it. Kris is going out at all hours to handle business that no one knows about, and Jia does the same. Sometimes she goes out supporting a camera around her neck, sometimes with sweats and a duffle bag; all those times happen when Kris is fast asleep or when he has already left. 

-

Her hair is blonde but still shoulders length. She’s sitting with her legs crossed, her elbows on her thighs, and her head in her hands, watching with intense eyes as they practice. She’s sitting on the ugly floral print couch with the multi-color patchwork, and wood showing at the bottom, that Baekhyun’s parents shoved down in the basement because no one felt like getting rid of it properly. 

Baekhyun’s leaning on his plastic microphone stand, hands holding the microphone as if he’s holding a woman, eyes closing every now and then as he belts out line after line to their newest ballad song. She’s staring at Kris though, watching as he plays the drums with half-lidded eyes, deep into the music. When the song ends she claps, a grin spreading on her lips as she stands up and bobs and weaves her way over to Kris’s drum kit. 

“So how was the song,” Baekhyun asks her, from where he’s standing talking to Chanyeol the lead guitarist. 

“It sounded amazing,” She compliments, grinning at Baekhyun. 

“Great because this is the song that’s getting us famous.” The brunet tells her, turning back to Chanyeol. 

“What does he mean,” Jia asks, tilting her head slightly to look at Kris. “Wu Yifan, are you hiding something?” 

“Not hiding,” Kris says with a shake of his head. “I was looking for the perfect time to tell you, Baekhyun ruined it though.” 

“What did he ruin Yifan,” Jia asks leaning in close to him. 

“This summer,” Kris he says slowly, pausing just for added effect. “We’re, the band and I, of course, are going on tour as an opening act.” 

“Jinjja,” She asks eyes wide even as the word leaves her lips with a laugh, and Baekhyun mutters an indignant “hey,” at being mocked. 

“Baekhyun actually said that when the dude told us. That’s how we knew we got it.” She laughs more, and he grins at her. 

“So,” Jia starts leaning even closer to Kris until she’s right beside his ear, she hits the drum kit a bit but that doesn’t stop her. “I guess that makes me your girlfriend then,” she whispers in perfect Mandarin. 

“I guess so,” Kris answers her back, words strange on his tongue after not using it much. She pulls away after only slightly pecking his lips with the most mischievous smile he’s ever seen and walking away back to the old sofa.

-

She’s dyeing her hair in the kitchen, hair dye situated inside the sink, standing mirror on the counter by the refrigerator and herself situated with a towel around her neck, in a black tank top and cotton panties with flower patterns. 

“I’m going out to meet Baekhyun,” he tells her, slipping on his shoes. 

“Tell Bacon I said hi and that he should drop by,” she yells out after him. He tells her okay and slips out of the house, coat on to protect him from the cold as he walks the long distance from his apartment to Baekyhun’s parents’ place on the other side of town. 

When he rings the bell, Baekhyun’s mother, a beautiful Korean woman greets him in broken English, cooing and smiling as she lets him in. The woman was extremely kind and aged gracefully, her only flaw was her inability to properly grasp the English language but even that endeared her to others, finding her sincerity more important than her fluency. Baekhyun’s mother was the sweetest lady on the block.  

Baekhyun’s room is the creation of his fifteen-year-old self, with posters of female Korean idols revealing their navels and air-brushed legs, American models revealing more, and bands. He had posters from the Beatles to Nirvana and all that in between. The only real difference was that his twin size bed was now a full sized one and could fit more than one grown man, not that he ever brought girls home. 

“Krissy,” Baekhyun greets, from where he’s at watching something on his bed. “What brings you here?” 

“Love how you’re awesome eyeliner wearing rock star by night and then overgrown Korean child by day. How do you even manage to get laid when you’re home?” 

“I don’t,” Baekhyun says. “You gotta go out of town for that crap so no woman has ever seen this room. We can’t all be shacking up with our girlfriends Krissy, thanks for the compliment though.” 

“Yeah, you’d need a girlfriend to even think of that possibility not that aunty-Byun would allow you to shack up with any ol’ girl.” 

“I know, I know, mom keeps asking when am I going to settle down with a good Korean girl, but she doesn’t realize that the good girls aren’t the ones that stand backstage with beers in their hands. But speaking of good girls how are things going with my sister-in-law.” 

“Things are going well,” Kris says with a shrug. 

“You don’t shrug when things are going well,” Baekhyun states. “Has the date been set yet?” 

“I haven’t asked her yet,” Kris admits, hands reaching into his coat pocket to finger at the black velvet case. 

“Are you coming back to us then,” Baekhyun asks with a frown. 

“No, not if I can help it,” Kris says with a shake of his head. 

“Good,” Baekhyun says with a nod. “Your replacement is fucking awesome and he isn’t shacking up with some chick.” 

“You love Jia,” Kris reminds him. 

“I love my mom too but that doesn’t mean I want her on my or any of my band member’s minds when we’re meeting chicks, or ever for that matter.” 

“She wants you to visit.” 

“I’ll stop by before we hit the road again,” Baekhyun says. “Propose to her first, I need to know rather or not we’re going to have a wedding to attend when we get back or if we’re kicking the drummer boy aside because shit fell through.” 

“I wanted to see my dad before I did,” Kris says with a shrug. “Get things right before I make the commitment. I managed to Skype her parents in China with the help of her cousin and I got their blessing.” 

“Congrats man, you’re really going through with it.”

-

“You’re doing what,” His father asks him, standing up and glaring at Kris. 

“My band and I are going on tour with this other band that’s pretty big,” Kris tells him, voice shaky as he speaks in Chinese. 

“I thought I told you to quit this band,” Kris’s father states, “You should be thinking about going to college not touring with some band of degenerates.” 

“Father the people in my band are far from being degenerates and as for college, I plan to do that some other time, This tour is a once and a lifetime opportunity and…” 

His father cuts him off, words loud and slurring together as he speaks rapidly. Kris, of course, doesn’t know better so instead of letting his father vent, he yells back, his words of English mingling with his father’s angry Cantonese. His mother eventually stops them, and Kris watches as his father storms away, mumbling words that Kris can barely understand under his breath. 

“It’s that girl’s fault isn’t it,” his mother asks when Kris settles back down. “You’re doing this to impress her aren’t you?” 

“This has nothing to do with Jia,” Kris tells her calmly. 

“The least she could do is come inside,” his mother scoffs. 

“She probably doesn’t want to face you when you’re judging her because of her hair color,” he replies before shaking his head. “I told her to wait in the car.” 

“Sweetie your father,” his mother trails off, as she plays with her hands. “There’s only so much he can take. Can’t you just stop this silly band thing already?” 

“I’m not doing this just to spite him,” Kris huffs. “I actually really care about Jia, and I really want the band to succeed.” 

“You’re not going to listen to us are you,” His mother asks a small frown on her thin lips. 

“You were my age once,” Kris tells her. “You know my answer.” 

“Just know that if things go wrong, we’re still here for you. We might not agree with what you want to do but we’re your parents and we’ll love always.” 

“Thanks,” Kris tells her, standing and hugging her. His mother sighs sadly and Kris tells her to tell his father goodbye. He crosses the green lawn of their tiny house to his fixer-upper of a car where Jia sits in the passenger seat. 

“How’d it go,” she asks him, slender fingers rubbing up and down his shoulders in a comforting fashion 

“It could have been worse,” Kris tells her starting the car. Her eyes flicker over to the house as he drives away. 

“They’ll understand,” she tells him. “Just try to succeed and once you do, they’ll be happy for you. Right now they’re just worried.” 

-

His father opens the door and Kris stands stiffly in front of him, eyes shining with hesitance and uncertainty as his father eyes him from head to toe. 

He opens his mouth to speak, to explain the lack of phone calls, and letters, and just everything that has happened in the time since he’s been gone. He doesn’t get to speak however, his father, a tall man with a face often set in a frown, similarly to Kris, pulls him into a tight hug, ruffling his bleached hair. 

“It’s good that you came to visit,” his father tells him. 

Kris nods and hugs him back, following his father into the house. He stands stiffly inside of the living room, as his father calls out for his mother. 

“Why are you screaming,” his mother asks in Chinese, voice pitched high as she enters the room. Her look of blatant annoyance disappears as she catches sight of Kris, and hurries over to him. She wraps her arms tightly around him as if he’s still her five year old instead of the over six-foot man he is now. 

“My son,” she cries out in Chinese, peppering kisses all over his face. An awkward laugh bubbles pass his lips, he’d gone so long without his mother’s affection and despite him pushing her away when he was younger, he honestly missed it now. 

“What brings you here,” his father asks him when they’ve settled down. 

“I want to say sorry for storming out that day, and refusing to contact you for so long,” Kris says. “I wanted to tell you that for a while, but I was too ashamed to call.” 

“You shouldn’t be ashamed to own up to your behavior,” His father tells him. “If you want to apologize, apologize, if you don’t feel you need to then don’t.” 

“I’m here for another reason,” Kris states next. 

“What is it,” his mother asks hesitantly. “You can tell us anything remember?” 

“I’m going to ask Jia to marry me,” Kris tells her. 

“You’re still together,” His father asks, there’s no biting tone, no upset look. 

“Yes,” Kris states nodding his head. “She’s stuck with me all this time, even though I haven’t been that great of a boyfriend.” 

“You have my blessing,” his father states. “As long as you’re sure you want to do this. Don’t marry her because you think it’ll make you treat her better. You need will and dedication, not just a marriage license to be a good husband. If you marry her that means she’s more important than music to you, you’re going to both have to make sacrifices for each other.” 

“I know,” Kris states. “I already quit the band. I can’t tour like that anymore.” 

“Well if you thought about it, I guess I approve,” Kris’ mother states. “When she says yes bring her over okay. We have a wedding to plan now.”

-

“You’re not going to miss me,” Jia tells him, her hair’s an orange color, and she’s lounging on their motel bed. It’s a hot summer day and their air conditioning unit hums in the background as they speak. “You know you won’t.” 

“Why,” Kris asks. “Why do you think I won’t miss you?” 

“Because you’ll be too busy making music and partying, and you’ll meet pretty girls that have your name tattooed above their asses.” She always brought up that one girl, the girl that had claimed to be their fan since they had been singing half-ass covers of 90s songs. Kris hadn’t met her and even if he did he doubts he’d be interested, he didn’t have any interest in the obsessive type. 

“But I will you miss you,” Kris states. “I’ll miss your sanity. Living on the road with a bunch of crazy dudes to perform for even crazier fans is going to make me lose my own sanity. What are you going to do when I go crazy?” 

“Dump you,” Jia retorts, she grins a bit, trying to hold back her laugh. “Or maybe I’ll just go crazy with you.” 

“My girlfriend loves me,” Kris singsongs, doing a weird little dance that has Jia doubled over with laughter. 

Jia leaves in the morning, she takes a yellow taxi cab to the nearest airport and the guys see her off in front of the hotel. Kris wants to see her get on the plane, wants to see her till the very last second, but at the same time, he doesn’t. Now that his girlfriend won’t be around he feels strange, and it’s not exactly a good thing. 

The first night of Jia being gone, Baekhyun coaxes him into a drinking contest with their bassist, and maybe he does forget to miss her, at least until the next day when he’s hung over in groaning, as he travels a bumpy ride across the country.

-

He doesn’t have the proposal planned. He’s not sure when he’ll do it or how he’ll do it or even if he’ll be able to do it. 

Kris is a wimp. He’s the wimpiest of all wimps and he’s sure that the moment he looks at her, gazes at her feline eyes he’ll chicken out. 

“I want a cat,” Jia says, they’re sitting in silence watching a cable movie with her feet resting on his lap. He’d had taken to massaging her bare legs just because he knew how skittish she became when his cold fingers pressed against her warm skin. 

“If we got married we could get a cat,” Kris blurts out before he can even stop himself. He turns to him then, facing away from the cute commercial of kittens to gaze intently at him. 

“Why would we need to get married to get a cat,” Jia asks him slowly. 

“Cats are a lifelong commitment like marriage,” Kris says. She arches a thin eyebrow and sits up moving her legs out of his lap. 

“Are they,” she asks. 

“Yeah,” he stutters out. He’s going to hate himself when he gets old. He’s going to look back on this very day every chance he gets and internally grimaces. 

“Do you have a ring,” She asks next. 

“I do,” he says, and he gazes just as intently at her watching her playful grin slips from her lips. 

“Are you serious,” she asks. 

“I quit the band,” Kris states. “I found a job at a hardware store for the time being until I can find something more permanent.” He pauses, fingers dipping into his sweatpants pocket where the ring box lay. He had been frightened to not have it on him, the fear of losing it or Jia discovering it before he was ready kept it close to him. “Jia Meng, will you marry me.” 

He watches as her eyes drop to stare at the glittering silver band with its single diamond before looking up to him. 

“I,” she starts, reaching out and falling rather dramatically into his arms. “I,” she tries again, but she can’t get her words right, so she nods her head and squeezes his shoulders. 

“Of course,” she says her voice cracking. “Oh God,” she groans moving back from him to wipe at her tearing eyes. “Oh God,” she says a second time. “I thought…Yes! Wu Yifan, Of course, I’ll marry you.” 


End file.
